Innocence
by AngelAxexinf
Summary: From the beginning, he was different. Shorter, smaller, "weaker". Life, for him, was nowhere near fair and never would be-he'd prefer anything over what he had to go through on a daily basis, over being a clone. The story of CT-8192, aka "Ridge". Strong "T" rating for later content.
1. Chapter 1

Gestation pods floated on anti-gravity rotators, the clean glass shining in the harsh fluorescent lighting. Inside each small tank, an even smaller body floated within the cool liquid. It twitched, one of its tiny feet fluttering uselessly in the gel. This one in particular was about nine months along, looking almost like any other human child that would have been born from a regular mother. It was only one of millions of clones like it, all of whom were floating in similar pods until maturation.

Columns over, an anti-gravity terminal floated, the five pods attached to it filled with sickly, cloudy green liquid. The small babies within the glass tanks lay completely still, alarm klaxons above them not disturbing the cold bodies. The column of terminals stopped rotating for a moment, suspended in the cool, temperature controlled air before racing upward, the terminal of green pods a stark contrast from the bright whites and cool pale blues.

The team of Kaminoans stood—one yellow-eyed scientist and two blue-eyed technicians—in anxious arrival of the defective batch of troopers. The anti-gravity terminal hovered before them.

"This is the third gestation terminal to fail this week," one of the technicians said, more to himself than to any of the others.

And still, dangerous chemical and hormonal imbalances had run rampant through column 7A-12x. Already, a total of twenty clone units had been found dead within their pods, a few showing signs of rapid decay.

The yellow-eyed scientist ignored him, tapping a few keys on her datapad. She depressed the release button on the manual control panel for the first pod. A service droid trundled toward the pod, its suction-manipulators gripping the smooth, cold glass and slowly sliding backwards. The pod detached, and he droid rotated its "hands" to place it vertically. As programmed, it twisted the metal lid off and backed away to repeat the task with the next four pods.

The smell of rotten chemicals wafted through the room, making bile rise in the scientist's long throat.

Of course, she made no show of her discomfort on the outside.

She waved to one of the technicians—this one female—to remove the clone unit from its pod. The technician did as she was told, putting gloved hands into the thick green liquid and pulling out the child within.

Dead.

"Shame," the technician said, passing the dead body to the service droid. She felt no real pity for the defective product. "Such a waste of resources. I supposed we will have to alert Head Master Su about—"

"There will be no need for that." The scientist interrupted. Her physical appearance remained calm, serene.

On the inside, her frets and worries chased each other in frantic circles in her head. _This is what you get for tampering with Fett's genome_. _Three failed attempts._

The scientist watched in passive silence as the third and fourth bodies were decanted. _I should be doing this. It was my fault to begin with._ She stepped forward, holding a hand up for the technician to halt her movements. "I will take care of the rest." Her voice remained even and emotionless, but the slightest thread of warning was heard.

"With due respect," the male spoke, "we were instructed to assist you when—"

"And I am now instructing you to leave." Her tone left no room for argument, however soft it sounded. "The service droids will be plenty."

Both technicians were silent for a moment, contemplating. Then the female spoke. "As you wish, Scientist." She bowed, her long neck curving, before leaving the decanting room. The male followed silently.

Scientist Min Lo breathed outward, a soft puff, before putting on the plastoid-rubber gloves and reaching into the thick green liquid. She kept her discomfort at the smell to herself.

Behind her, the service droid buzzed and tweeted to itself, sending the drained pods down a chute.

Min Lo lifted the small child out of his tank, mentally checking him over and tallying what she would have to make note of on her datapad.

He didn't move.

Min Lo blinked, and turned to the small holding box that would take the body to be disposed of. Thus far, her research had turned up no positive results.

Another failure.

Just as she was about to place the body into the box, something small and warm gripped her thumb. A tiny squeal echoed in the cavernous lab, quickly morphing into a slightly louder cry.

It was alive.

A small spark of elation lit up in Min Lo's chest. Her months of tampering and research had paid off, this small unauthorized experiment _succeeded_.

The baby squealed again, fat tears rolling down his pale cheeks as he flailed uselessly in her hands. She could hear the fluid in his under-developed lungs as he gasped for breath.

The service droid blipped and tipped its head almost curiously. It trundled forward a meter and looked at her quizzically. It gave a small chorus of beeps and trills, holding out its manipulator arms.

Almost protectively, Min Lo tightened her grip on the still whimpering child. "Send the following items to my quarters immediately." Placing the child carefully on the steel table—and inwardly flinching at the uncleanliness—she plugged her datapad into the droid's port.

The droid stilled for a moment as it downloaded files and lists, then chirped brightly, a sign that it understood.

"You must not tell anyone." Min Lo already knew that after a few days, certain data would be terminated, but she wanted to make sure. "And make sure you are not seen. Take the service lifts."

The droid chirped again, nodding awkwardly and trundling away on its heavy wheels.

Min Lo breathed outward softly, not realizing that her heart had been racing. She turned back to the child on the table.

He stared at her with wide, brown eyes, blinking every once in a while. The child was only a few months old, barely able to sit up. He was too young.

There were no facilities that would be able to hold him; all clones were decanted at the biological age of two and were quickly sent to their first lesson. In the pod they received flash training in speaking Basic fluently.

The child looked at her almost expectantly, hiccupping a few times. With a small hand, he reached out to her, his fingers grasping the cool air. He shivered, small legs kicking uselessly and feebly at the air.

_This is what I have created. _Min Lo let the revelation sink in for a moment, fully realizing that she had found a successful way to lengthen the average trooper's life span.

Quickly removing the child from the cold table, she carried him to the sink, his weight barely anything in her hands. This was her private lab; she had free reign to do whatever she wanted, and she was sure it included but was not limited to bathing secret experiments in warm water.

He squirmed as the warm water trickled over his head, opening his eyes again. A small palm reached upward and tried to pinch the water that streamed from the holes in the spray tap—as was expected, his hand-eye coordination was greater than that of an average civilian child's his age.

Min Lo studied her creation, aiming the warm water away from his face. He had the same dark eyes and black hair as the rest of the clones, but his curled more. His skin was pale, and his breathing suggested that there was fluid built up in his lungs. He'd stopped crying, something she was grateful for, but the shadow of ribs seen through his skin was a disturbing image.

He continued to stare at the scientist with all of the out-of-place seriousness of his brothers, his eyes seeming older than his age. He squirmed again, giving a small cry and revealing toothless gums.

Had he been documented, his number would have been CT-5642, but as far as the rest of the subjects were concerned, he didn't exist.

Min Lo finished washing the small experiment and dried him off with the disposable towels available. Mentally, she berated herself for not having been prepared with the proper tools, but she had never expected that her unauthorized genetic tampering would have worked.

He continued to stare at the yellow-eyed scientist, large brown eyes taking in the surroundings about him. The harsh fluorescent lighting made his already pale skin look a ghostly color.

He coughed, small and weak.

Min Lo picked him up—marveled at how light-weight he was—and set him on the metal examining table. The child immediately began squirming against the cold metal, whimpering as tears formed in his eyes.

"This will only take a moment." Min Lo placed him on a scale, wrote down the weight, and took other measurements.

His blood type was not the same as that of the other clones. Compared to the standard size, weight, and physical development of regular human males, he was born prematurely—even set against the standards of clone infants, he was smaller and weaker.

A pang of sorrow settled into her stomach.

The child made a small noise again, his face crinkling. Gently, Min Lo ran her thumb along his cheek. "Don't fret, little one," she said softly. Her mind was elsewhere, however, as she contemplated all that this would mean: she had no facilities in her quarters to care for an underweight, unauthorized experiment—she didn't even have means of transporting him to her quarters.

He eventually closed his eyes, fast asleep despite how chilly it was in the lab. Min lo cast her eyes about the room, looking for anything she could use to hide the child. There was a white duffel bag on the floor by the sink, but it was thin—any uneven weight would make the whole thing tip.

A sharp hiss brought her attention to the door, her heart jumping and hammering within her narrow chest. The service droid trundled in almost cheerfully, its proud whistles and trills indicating that it had completed the tasks on the list.

"Did anyone see you?" Min Lo asked, absently stroking the child's head. He didn't flinch.

It beeped "no, none other than uninterested and busy droids".

She nodded her approval. "Good," she said to it. "I may need your services again later; save that data and make sure no one accesses it."

The droid seemingly swelled with its important duty. It chirped brightly and then shifted backward a bit, spinning on its wheels to trundle to the cabinets under the sink. Min Lo watched in mild curiosity as it opened the doors with its manipulators and started pulling out various items: lab coats, various datapads, and other miscellanea.

"What are you doing?" She watched in concern as the helper droid pulled out a small towel and trundled back over to her.

It held out its small manipulator arms, motioning the towel to the sleeping child on the table. When she took it, it then made slightly-frantic movements from the child to the duffel to the lab coats, towels, and datapads on the floor by the sink.

Min Lo was only half paying attention, too focused on drying and wrapping up the clone in a new towel than trying to figure out what it was that the droid was saying.

The droid beeped in what could only be described as an annoyed tone. It picked up the duffel and started laying in the datapads at the bottom, folding towels and placing them neatly on top until it had created a layer of cloth. It picked up the duffel by its straps—the bag's bottom completely even—and rolled back to Min Lo, placing it at her feet. It pointed.

"Ah," she said, lifting the bag onto the table. It cast a shadow that covered the child's small body. Carefully, her pale fingers wrapped around the back of his head and around his rear. She lifted him and placed him within the bag. Min Lo could barely here his slightly-raspy breathing as he slept soundly. She rubbed his head one last time, zipping it up most of the way. "Thank you, service droid." She slowly lifted the bag and placed the strap on her slender shoulder, feeling its weight tilt her to the right a bit. "Clean up in here while I visit my quarters. If anyone asks, I left to attend to some errands and will return shortly."

The droid whistled cheerily, moving to clear up the mess it had made on the floor by the sink. As Min Lo opened the doors to the large lab, it waved goodbye at her, almost humming out the small word. She only tipped her head at it, amused by the droid's optimistic behavior.

The halls were white and quiet, brighter-white linings and the dark windows being the only contrast. Min Lo turned left, toward the sectioned-off area that led to her quarters. She passed few other beings as she walked, and they paid little attention to her other than a nod from her subordinates or

She didn't realize how hard her heart had been pounding until she stepped through the doors to her quarters. In the silence, she only heard her own breathing and the rushing of blood in her ears. Her quarters were shrouded in darkness, and Min Lo made no move to turn on the overhead lights. The furnishings were sparse: a low bed on the left wall with the refresher door about a meter away from it, a wide closet on the right, and a window that made up the entire back wall directly across from her, floor-to-ceiling. Beyond it, the slate grey ocean rose and fell, dark clouds unleashing their torrent of rain and wind on the wide expanse of sea.

The Kaminoan stood still for what seemed like an eternity—it must have been an eternity for her heart to finally calm down. Suddenly, the weight of the bag on her shoulder became unbearably real, and she set it down onto her bed. Unzipping the pale duffel, she examined the sleeping child within. His arms were curled up towards his face, lips slightly parted.

Min Lo stood back, spotting the packages she had requested for the first time. They sat in a small huddle in the middle of the floor, boxes of various sizes stacked one on top of the other. There were about five. With still-shaking fingers, she opened the first box and pulled out its contents: baby clothes, all different colors but small enough for a two month old child.

The other boxes held infant formula, bedding, a crib she would have to build herself, and music to calm him for when he was crying. Holding up a soft blue onesie, she aimed her attention back at the duffel bag. She hoped he wouldn't make a fuss when she tried to get it onto him.

Sure enough, he started to cry once he was removed from the bag.

Min Lo couldn't help but cringe. The walls were fully sound proof, but his screaming was loud and grating. It was difficult to get his arm through the sleeve while he squirmed, but she managed it in a few minutes.

After another two minutes of whimpering, he lay quietly in her arms, staring up at her with wide eyes. The tears were beginning to dry on his face.

"Do not be sad, little one," she said softly, stroking his cheek. He seemed to like it, for when she had first started he immediately lowered his cry to whining. She turned her head, staring out at the raging storm beyond the window. She would dim the glass and set to work building the crib while he slept.

Once more, Min Lo looked down at his now sleeping face—and once more, the realization that she had done something highly illegal set in. Her creation couldn't be found, no matter what, no matter how much she wanted to boast about her discoveries. The scientist let her shoulders sag, all of her energy leaving her.

It had taken almost two years to perfect the new genome that would expand a clone's life span, and the proof of that was in her arms, in the form of a small, two-month old baby.

_The first installment of Ridge's "biography"—everyone in Crusade Squad will get one, although the titles of which still have yet to be figured out._

_Review, critique, comment, almost anything will be accepted! _


	2. Chapter 2

Caring for an infant—in secret, no less—was a new stress Min Lo hadn't actually thought of when tampering with the Fett genome.

The infant was biologically two months old. He could follow her finger and lights, and he could sit up with some assistance. He could hold his head upright when on his belly, which meant that he would be crawling or rolling soon. The medical droid she had hijacked and forced to live in her quarters repeatedly reminded her that talking to him was important for his development, as was feeding him and playing with him herself.

Despite being out for most of the day and only being able to see the child when he was asleep, he'd already taken more of a liking to Min Lo and cried when left with the medical droid for too long.

So she played with him now if only to keep him quiet. His curly dark hair rose up in odds and ends on his head, slightly thinner towards the middle. Min Lo ran her fingers through it, watching as the strands straightened out and curled immediately after release. The infant stared at her the entire time.

The scientist, for all her years of schooling and experience and all of her planning, saw many things that she hadn't considered: babies are loud, they smell when they soil themselves, they need constant feeding, and they are disturbingly expressionless. Min Lo had even tried unsuccessfully to prompt a smile from him—she even made faces and high-pitched voices the way civilian mothers did. He only stared.

Experimentally, she poked his side and was gratified with a tiny twitch of a smile.

A loud clap of thunder returned her to her task; she'd originally been changing him, not trying to make him laugh. She was almost done, only needing to rub on the baby powder and fasten the diaper.

He looks at the window when the thunder sounds again, his little body jerking in surprise. Bursts of lightning flash, briefly lighting up the stormy clouds in the slate grey sky. The infant gurgles at the display of lights, his tiny legs flailing.

"You like that?" The thunder and lightning mean nothing to her, but because his senses are still developing, every new thing is a delight for the baby. Min Lo hums and finishes wrapping up his diaper.

_Bzzzz!_

Her back freezes, every nerve tingling with a rush of adrenaline so sudden that her hand shake. Min Lo hurriedly waves the droid over. "Finish dressing him and clear everything away; hide in my bathroom until I am finished and _keep him quiet."_ This last part she cannot stress enough.

The droid obeys silently and doesn't even watch Min Lo nearly speed walk out of her bedchamber.

The lights are brighter in her "living room". The door leading to the hallway connecting her quarters with a few others are a clean, even white. The thunder is a mere low rumble in this part of her quarters. Beside the door is a screen with another Kaminoan's face displayed on it. He looks from side to side before ringing the buzzer again.

Min Lo takes a breath before pressing a button on the panel to open the door. "Mala Tel," she says, "is there something wrong in the lab?"

Mala Tel consults a datapad he holds in his hands. "There seems to be a few errors in the tabulation of our most recent batch of cadets. The chemical formulas need rebalancing and—"

"You could not have simply sent a message or someone in your stead?" Min Lo has an inkling of an idea as to why Mala Tel came out of his way to tell her about such trivial matters.

A quick blink and tiny, strangled-sounding throat clear displays the younger Kaminoan's embarrassment. "I just happened to be on my way, Mistress Lo." He quickly regains his serene composure. "And Lama Su would like to speak with you." He must have seen her twitch and stiffen because he quickly tries to downplay the severity of such a report. "I am sure it is nothing serious. He must want to see how his favorite scientist is fairing—he favors you, you know."

Min Lo shakes her head, more to herself than at Mala Tel's words. "When does he want to see me?"

"Tomorrow; he will send an escort for you."

She nods. "Thank you, Mala Tel."

He bows gently and walks away.

Min Lo stares at the closed doors for what feels like hours, waiting for her heart to calm down—but it still maintains its sprinting pace, so she shakes herself and exhales.

The Prime Minister wants to see her.

Her stomach flips in a nowhere-near-pleasant way, something she'd eaten earlier souring within her. Whatever the reason, it could not have been good. No amount of sugar coating from Mala Tel would calm her down. Min Lo collapses onto the clean white couch, tipping her head back as far as her neck would allow.

Lama Su wants to speak with her.

Min Lo shivers. Forcing down unpleasant thoughts, she steps into her bedchamber and opens the bathroom door. "You can come out now," she whispers, still cautious.

A closet slides open and the medical droid steps out, the infant cradled in its arms. The baby's large brown eyes immediately lock on her, and his fist leaves his mouth long enough for him to make a grabby motion with his hand. "He remained silent, although stressed, Mistress Lo," the droid says. "I played music softly for him in order to keep him calm."

"Yes, thank you. I will hold him now." Physical contact was important. She'd read that babies, especially human and near-humans ones, constantly craved closeness from their mother or caregiver—also, he would get cranky if she did not carry him for a few minutes.

The droid places the baby in her extended arms.

"I barely see you and yet you prefer me over your caretaker." Min Lo can't keep the fondness out of her voice or the smile off of her face. She pokes his forehead and he gurgles, and her smile grows.

"It is because he knows you are organic, and I am a machine," the droid says, interrupting her thoughts. "I am not warm or female—I also do not sing to him. Infants sense these things."

"Hmm…yes," she answers absently, exiting the bathroom. "Clean up and prepare his food for tomorrow, please."

"Yes, mistress."

Min Lo sits on her bed, the mattress sinking under her weight. She remembers another Kaminoan—a friend—complaining about the softness of it, how it was bad for one's back. Apparently, she prefers it softer than most Kaminoans would. Min Lo places the baby on the bed and watches as he squirms around, trying to get a view of his surroundings. He would mostly see the hood that covers the head of her bed, but not much else.

"Play time, young one," Min Lo says, placing her fingertips inside the infant's saliva-covered fists. He immediately latches on—reflex—and squeezes tight. Gently, she pulls upward, forcing him to use his neck and arm muscles to support himself. This exercise would strengthen his neck muscles and make him develop faster.

He gurgles as saliva drips down his chin. Min Lo stops the exercise to search for wipes for him. She always keeps them in her bedside drawer, in case the infant drooled on her or had his fingers in his mouth for too long.

She freezes at the drawer; her fingers are shaking. They tremble like rickety bridges or a building during the beginnings of an earthquake and they don't stop, even when she wraps one hand around the other and holds them to her chest.

She has to admit to herself that she is terrified.

The infant looks at her, curious-eyed and ever fidgeting. He loses an interest and put his fist in his mouth.

Min Lo takes a breath, even shakier than her fingers, and closes her eyes. Why would the Prime Minister, the personal overseer of the clone army, want to meet a simple scientist such as herself? Her position wasn't so important as hired bounty hunters who oversaw the training of the clones or the Kaminoans who actually put the embryos in their tanks. She simply managed the balance of chemicals and oversaw the clones' general development.

Unless he knew.

Her heart lurches into her throat and her stomach turns again. She glances down at the little baby, his eyes half-lidded and fist slowly slipping from his mouth. She stands and goes to the kitchen to find something to eat, changes her mind, and lies down next to him. He's fast asleep by now, his chest rising and falling quickly. For whatever reason, human infants' heartbeats and breathing rates are higher. Min Lo rests her fingers on his belly and grows calm from his even little breaths. Her mind continues to race, however?

Would Mala Tel be the one to deliver her? A droid? Where would the meeting take place?

Would she be removed from her position? How would she transport the child to a safe place?

She feels her stress rising again, so she inhales and watches the infant twitch in his sleep. His lungs clear of fluid, he breathes more evenly and for longer periods of time. When he wakes, she will have to feed him.

Thunder claps. Min Lo falls asleep to the steady roll of the storm.

* * *

><p><em>It's been a while since I updated this; sorry about that. I'm getting my writing muse back, although I'm not sure when War of Monsters will be updated again. <em>

_~AAx_


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